Finding Ever After

by Pepper Basham

  Maggie hadn’t given him any indication that her end of the bargain was changing, and the last thing he needed was to be made a fool of by another Craft sister. Harper might technically be a Weir, but close enough. Once had been plenty.

  He wouldn’t make a move—fake or otherwise—on Maggie until he was sure she felt the same.

  The floorboard under his bare feet creaked, and the door at the end of the hall swung open. He froze at the top of the stairs, then slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

  Harper, framed in her open bedroom door, raised her eyebrows at him and cinched the belt of her pink robe. Unlike most women in a mountain resort who would wear something warm and fleecy, her robe was thin and silky. Figured.

  “Where are you sneaking off to?” She started down the hallway toward him, and he took a few steps down the staircase to keep a safe distance.

  “Just needed a drink.” He kept his eyes on the stairs. He might not be in a real relationship with Maggie, but he wouldn’t increase the chasm between her and Harper by giving Harper the satisfaction of a second look.

  Her voice lilted toward him. “I think Mom keeps the wine in the cabinet over the microwave. I’ll join you.”

  He snorted and took another two steps down. “Not that kind of a drink.”

  “You never were big on alcohol, were you?”

  He stopped, one hand gripping the banister, and twisted to look up at her. “So you do remember me?”

  She moved fluidly toward him, her robe swishing around her bare knees. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like a golden waterfall. Who had hair that perfectly wavy at midnight?

  “Of course I do, silly.” Harper stopped one stair above, her citrus perfume wafting over him. That exact aroma used to appeal to him when they dated, but now it just smelled superficial and acidic. All he could think about was how it paled in comparison to Maggie’s approachable, homey scent—the kind that made you want to cuddle up with cookies and binge Netflix.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t I remember you?”

  Irritation flared. He’d almost forgotten her games. “Oh I don’t know, maybe because this morning you acted like you were meeting me for the first time?”

  Standing this close to her, the memories of her rejection flooded back in vivid color and his hold on the banister tightened. How they’d hung out for over a month—making out in the storage room of the school store between his shifts, grabbing lunch between classes, him plastered to her side at her multiple sorority shindigs, where he’d always been her designated driver. How he’d gathered the courage one autumn evening outside a party to talk to her about their status.

  He knew it was the reverse stereotype, the guy trying to nail down the relationship instead of the girl. But he’d felt her slipping away a little, and desperately wanted to keep her. His boys had encouraged it at the time, telling him about rumors they’d heard of Harper flirting around. He wanted to be clear on where they stood.

  She’d made it crystal clear, all right.

  “I couldn’t let Maggie know I knew you.” Harper rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

  He’d forgotten how often she’d said that back in college. It grated his nerves now even more than it had then.

  Then her words soaked in. “So it was for her sake?” His ire cooled a degree. He hadn’t ever considered that she’d been pretending for Maggie. That was actually pretty considerate on her part.

  “Of course. She’s my sister.”

  Sister. Not stepsister. Interesting. His temper softened another notch. “Good choice, then.”

  “So you won’t tell her we dated?” Harper lowered her voice to a whisper before joining him fully on the same step. Her blue eyes met his and a slow grin lifted the corners of her mouth. “Why did we break up, again?”

  She had to be kidding. He held her gaze, except he was certain his contained none of the flirtatious vibe that hers did. “That would be because I wasn’t good enough for you.”

  She blew out her breath in a quiet laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Agreed. Unfortunately, you didn’t think so back then.”

  Her brows knitted together. “I actually said that?”

  “And more.” His jaw tightened at the memory. At the burning wave of embarrassment, at the pointed whispers and pitying looks he’d received for weeks after.

  “I was probably drunk.” She waved her hand in the air as if she could easily dismiss his most humiliating moment to date.

  “You definitely were.” She’d slurred her rejection of him in front of their entire group of friends and half of her sorority, loudly declaring how she’d just used him for a good time. “I believe you used the words ‘as if’.”

  “Oh.” Harper rolled in her bottom lip. “I sort of remember now.”

  Why he ever thought her opinion mattered, he couldn’t be sure. But standing here now, in front of her, directly confronting his deepest insecurity, made him realize for the first time how much he didn’t need her validation. He thought coming here could show Harper he was successful and had arrived. That he was good enough for her now, but he didn’t want her.

  Except the moment didn’t hold the glory he’d anticipated.

  It felt kind of, well, ridiculous that she’d held that much power over him for so long. Especially when there were women out there who liked being with him for him, just as he was, regardless of how padded his bank account was or how new his truck.

  Women like Maggie.

  “Why don’t we sit down and talk it over? I probably need to apologize for a lot.” Harper pushed past him on the stairs, her hand brushing against his and tugging once before letting go. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

  A decent gesture, but unnecessary—and way too complicated if Maggie or Carolyn were to wake up and see them together downstairs. “No thanks. I’m going back to bed.” He turned and started back up the steps. He didn’t trust Harper’s agenda, then or now. It wasn’t worth it.

  “Griff?”

  Harper waited to speak until he turned and cast a reluctant look down the staircase. She shifted her weight to fully accentuate her figure and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Are you sure?”

  A month ago, he’d probably have jumped at the chance to prove himself, to talk up his business, to make her feel bad for her being such a jerk. But now he just felt sorry for her, and foolish for having cared what she thought in the first place. “I’m sure. Goodnight Harper.”

  He’d made it exactly three steps away from his room when Maggie’s door opened, and he collided directly into her.

  She ricocheted off his chest like a pin ball. “Griff!” Her heartbeat doubled, and adrenaline shot through her body like she’d been given an injection. “I’m sorry.”

  He caught her by both arms and steadied her. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  He hadn’t let go of her shoulders yet, and his touch burned through the fleecy sleeves of her robe. She shifted slightly away from the warmth, despite wanting to lean into it. If she did, she’d never recover. “What are you doing up?”

  He hesitated. “What are you doing up?”

  They stared at each other. “I couldn’t sleep.” They spoke at the same time.

  “New bed.” They spoke simultaneously again, then laughed.

  Griff stepped closer toward his room, averting his gaze. “I was just getting a drink of water.”

  “Same here.” She pointed to the stairs, even though he still wasn’t really looking at her.

  “Great minds.” He nodded awkwardly, only briefly meeting her gaze before ducking inside his room. “Well, good night.”

  “Good night.” Maggie headed downstairs to the kitchen, her mind still fully upstairs with Griff, reliving their interaction. He’d been so jumpy. Almost guilty. But there was no reason why he shouldn’t be helping himself in the kitchen.

  Man, he’d looked good in that sweatshirt. All cozy and approachable and—

 
; She rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped short.

  “You’ve got yourself a good one.” Harper raised her wine glass at Maggie from her perch on a bar stool. “Want a glass?” She nudged a bottle of Sauvignon across the counter.

  On second thought, hopefully he hadn’t been helping himself in the kitchen after all.

  Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe this was the result of too much sugar before bed.

  Or the result of too much chemistry before bed. She’d tossed and turned for hours, fully aware of Griff in the room next door, before finally giving up on sleep and coming down for a glass of water. Crashing into him hadn’t exactly helped the problem.

  That was it. She had to be dreaming.

  She squinted at Harper, but her stepsister’s pink-clad image didn’t fade. Instead, she took another sip and held her gaze, as if waiting for a reply.

  Okay, reality it was.

  “No, I’m good, thanks.” Maggie grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then pulled out the other barstool and sat down. Even in the middle of the night under fluorescent lighting, her stepsister looked pristine. She could only imagine her own puffy eyes and winter-chapped lips.

  And Griff had just glimpsed that frightening vision up close and personal, immediately after seeing Harper’s perfection. Her stomach constricted. Story of her life.

  Mirror, mirror… She never had to ask. She already knew the answer.

  “So you approve of Griff, huh?” Not that it mattered, since Griff wasn’t technically real. But she had to say something to distract herself from the thoughts running rampant in her head.

  “Yep. He passed the test.” Harper grinned.

  Maggie’s hand holding her bottle of water stilled on the way to her mouth. “What test?”

  “The loyalty test.” Harper wiggled her eyebrows at Maggie. “You know what I mean.”

  Maggie groaned. No wonder he’d looked guilty. He’d just been all but propositioned by her stepsister. She set her bottle down with a thump. “I can’t believe you.”

  “What? I said he passed. Besides, I was doing you a favor.” Harper tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Remember when your freshman-year boyfriend Paul hit on me?”

  Oh, she remembered.

  “And Chris.” Harper’s manicured nails drummed on the countertop. “And oops—don’t forget Brian.”

  Maggie buried her face in her hands. “Okay, okay. I get it.” Her words muffled through her fingers. “But I’m not thanking you, if that’s what you’re after.” This was exactly the kind of drama she’d hoped to avoid. Coming here single and dealing with her stepfamily’s old barbs would have been better than this. At least those insults were familiar.

  “Relax.” Harper’s tone lowered a notch. “I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt you.”

  Maggie lifted her head and peered at Harper. “Really?” She wanted that to be true, but Harper wasn’t exactly the loyal, protective type. There had to be a hidden motive somewhere. Like when she’d offered to loan her favorite scarf in order to make up for Maggie’s spaghetti-stained sweater.

  “Yes, really.” Harper shrugged. “So, see? There’s at least one guy out there that turned me down for you.”

  That sounded more like the stepsister she knew.

  Maggie shook her head. Maybe she’d been too uptight over all of this. Things seemed like they were going smoothly overall, despite Harper’s ‘test’. They only had to get through two more days, then everything would go back to normal. She and Griff would go back to work and their once-a-week bantering over the bookstore counter, and Maggie could forget she was attracted to Griff like a double-sided magnet.

  All would be well again. Familiar. Comfortable. She took a sip of water.

  Harper winked at her over the rim of her wine glass. “I think he’s going to propose.”

  Water spewed from Maggie’s lips across the counter.

  Harper wrinkled her nose and inched away from the mess. “Ew. Good thing he didn’t see that.”

  “Propose?” She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her robe. Apparently, their ruse was working well—a little too well—if that was the image being presented. They needed to dial it down, quickly, or else their pending post-vacation breakup wouldn’t be believable.

  “Yep.” Harper pointed at her around her glass. “And I call being your maid of honor. I look really good in blue, which I know will be your wedding color.”

  Maggie’s mouth opened and shut twice, but she couldn’t decide which issue to address first. One of them being no way would Harper be in her wedding, for about a dozen reasons—namely because she absolutely looked good in blue. “Did he actually say he was going to propose?”

  “Not exactly.” Harper shrugged. “But why else would he turn down an opportunity with me?”

  Her stomach clenched. Forget going smoothly. This had just gotten majorly more complicated. They’d done too good a job faking it, and now their fake breakup would have to be even more dramatic to be convincing. And then what? How would she and Griff be able to stay close friends in the same town without Carolyn or Harper seeing them or figuring out the whole scheme?

  The thought of losing her real friendship with Griff made her want to confess this whole facade now. It’d be a lot less awkward than waiting until they were busted.

  “Listen, Harper…” She swallowed, searching for the right words that wouldn’t make her sound totally pathetic.

  Her stepsister tilted back her glass for the last remains of wine. “Anyone can tell he’s crazy about you. He came here in the first place, didn’t he?” She snorted. “That speaks a lot.”

  Maybe, if it’d all been real, and not just an unofficial, apple-tart-bribing contract between acquaintances.

  “And this is a romantic resort, you know?” Harper shrugged. “Hey, maybe it’ll happen tomorrow during our shopping trip downtown. Mom thinks so too.” She elbowed Maggie in the ribs. “She told me about seeing you guys all steamy in the kitchen earlier.”

  “We were just snuggling a bit. It was hardly steamy.” But she gulped at the memory, the one that had kept her up and brought her to the kitchen in the first place. A dozen replacement words for steamy ran through her mind. Vaporous. Misty. Irriguous.

  Sensual.

  Maggie twisted the cap back on her water bottle. She had to put a stop to this—all of this—before it got out of control. And before she let her runaway heart get hurt. “Harper, there’s something—”

  “Mom’s really proud of you.”

  There was an edge to her stepsister’s voice she hadn’t heard before. “She is?”

  “Yeah, she really likes Griff.” Harper traced the outline of the grapes on the wine bottle label, and that’s when Maggie recognized the tone. Jealousy.

  Her stepsister was jealous.

  Of her.

  The unfamiliar feeling swelled in her chest like a balloon of joy. “She does?” She couldn’t stop parroting, but she didn’t know what to do with the balloon. This was totally uncharted territory, and she wanted to explore it further. For once, Harper was jealous of her. Carolyn was proud of her. She never thought she’d see the day.

  “She thinks he’s responsible and mature.”

  Indeed, he was.

  Harper swiveled side to side on her bar stool. “And hardworking and smart.”

  Indeed, he was.

  She tossed back her hair. “And hot.”

  Indeed, he was.

  Wait a minute. Maggie blinked. “Carolyn said he was hot?”

  “Handsome, whatever.” Harper slid off the barstool and handed Maggie her empty glass. “Cheers, future Mrs. Massey.” She sauntered away, but her swagger seemed like it was missing a pinch of its usual swag.

  Maggie watched her go. Jealous Harper. Her stepsister must be finally feeling the effects of being single. Of being shot down for Maggie instead of vice versa. And perhaps worst of all—of having to share her mother’s admiration.

&
nbsp; A slow smile spread across Maggie’s face. The plan was working perfectly. No way was she confessing now. Except, that meant she had to tell Griff that she’d added one teensy tiny amendment to their agreement—a proposal.

  She was going to need a lot more tarts.

  7

  Griff never wanted to see another apple tart again.

  He and Maggie had quickly run through her recipe one more time that morning, and after eating most of the leftover results from the day before, well—he was either going to have to put the brakes on the tart-tasting or buy a bigger size pair of pants while they were out shopping today.

  To which, he couldn’t believe he was participating. Here they were at a mountain resort with snowshoeing trails, snowmobiles, and beautiful forests, and he was about to go shopping in some winter wonderland with three women?

  Griff climbed out of the passenger seat of Maggie’s car and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as he inhaled a deep breath of snow-laden air. He took in the rows of gingerbread-trimmed shops, glowing lamp posts, and lit gazebos at the bottom of the gentle sloping hill before them. Each shop complemented the one next to it, although they weren’t cookie-cutter like some of the shopping centers back home that he despised. It seemed lazy on the part of the architect to not give each building it’s deserved due. This community had been incredibly intentional, and it showed.

  This was the type of construction he wanted to do—the kind that would impress his father.

  He took in the hand-painted wooden signs in front of each store, the garland draped balconies and porch railings, and the giant welcome sign at the bottom of the hill, and smirked. There’d been a popular TV show some years back his sister had always watched, about this mom and daughter in a town so quaint and perfect, it was completely unrealistic. But looking at the village sprawled before him, he almost felt like he should keep an eye out for the brunette duo.